“I’m just enjoying the fact that Gran called me handsome. And rich. And basically God’s gift to Lena Joly.”
“Careful, dude. If your head gets any bigger, I’ll pop it.”
I pull her in, capturing her against my chest, bringing our laced hands to rest on her waist.
“What were the other compliments again? There were so many, I can’t remember them all.”
“If you like her so much, go fake an engagement,” she says, but she leans her head back against me.
Mindful of any cameras, I nip her ear, feeling her shiver as she giggles.
No more.
Not here, as tempting as it is.
“Sheisa catch, age difference be damned. Considering her questions, she’s clearly got her head screwed on right.”
“I can’t believe she asked if you were married. Gah.”
“Well, she doesn’t want some crazy wife to come out of the attic and start swinging for your head. You’d be surprised how often it happens in my circles. Guys get greedy and think they’re invincible, only to get their dicks rammed in the door.”
“Likeyoucould get married without the whole world knowing.” She huffs a breath.
The thought claws at my chest, though I don’t know why.
She’s not wrong about the attention lavished on my dumb ass. That’s the entire point of this whole sham, after all.
Even if I tried some low-key courthouse wedding or eloping to Nepal, someone would get wind of it.
“I dunno,” I say. “I could probably go to Vegas and pick up a girl there to marry without anyone knowing.”
“Classy. Do they still have Elvis impersonators licensed to marry?”
“Hey, don’t blame me. You didn’t specifyhowthis marriage would happen.”
“Theoretical marriage that’s never happening,” she corrects. Why does she sound so annoyed? “I mean, a big showy thing followed by a real ugly divorce would undermine what you’re trying to do here, wouldn’t it?”
“Yeah. But it might be fun.” I lean in, blowing a strand of loose hair away from her face.
She pretends to hate it, but I see her cheeks bloom red.
Shit, with her body against mine, all warmth and supple curves, it’s hard to imagine ever sharing a life with anyone else.
“Do you ever wish you could disappear?” she asks after a second. “Like hire your way into some witness protection thing to assign you a new name and life?”
“What?”
“The publicity.”
“That’s part of my life. I’ve made my mistakes—too many to count—but they’re mine. No sense in starting over and living a total lie, even if Icouldmake it happen.” I shrug, not wanting to get into this when we’re surrounded bythe publicityon all sides.
The second we dock on the island and walk into town, we’ll be swarmed with attention. Bainbridge is a quiet place with a small-town vibe and basically the same appetite for any whiff of gossip. The summer crowds also tend to be larger and livelier.
“But wouldn’t it be easier? You get no privacy, Brady.”
“That’s what I asked for when I fired up my social media machine. Part passion project and another part trying to reinvent myself. Even when it works, you still pay the price, trading some shitty comments and unwanted attention for awareness that can make a real difference in everything you care about.”
I can practically feel her skepticism rising, but she doesn’t respond.
